


Centre of the Web

by jadztone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Potterlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Auror Greg Lestrade is tasked by Harry Potter to investigate an anonymous tip that Potions Master Draco Malfoy is performing dark magic at Hogwarts.When he arrives at the castle, he is confronted by former colleague Neville Longbottom, who is now Herbology professor. Neville insists on proving that Draco is innocent, and he isn't the only one meddling in Greg's investigation.Mycroft Holmes, who occupies a 'minor position' in the Ministry of Magic, knows more than he he's letting on about what’s lurking at Hogwarts and in what way it threatens everything he cares about.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 27
Kudos: 40
Collections: Mystrade Is Magic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It was my goal to have at least one chapter published by the end of May for the Mystrade is Magic challenge. The deadline was extended, but I'm keeping to my original goal with *squints* 12 minutes to spare. It's a short chapter, but at least it has a pretty collage.
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd or britpicked. If you see anything particularly egregious, let me know and I'll fix it.

Greg wasn’t having a good morning. There was no hot water in the shower, third time that week. He really needed to move out of this bloody tip. It was only meant to be a temporary measure when he and the missus split. But the ink was long dry on the divorce decree and he was still here. 

Then as he was eating breakfast, he spilled coffee all over himself and had to change. When he was finally ready for work and reached into the little pot next to the fireplace, he discovered that he was out of floo powder. Already running late, his only recourse was to apparate to Whitehall and flush himself down the loo. 

It had been years since he’d needed to use the underground toilets typical of most Ministry workers. As a senior Auror, he was given permission to floo directly from his flat. He’d almost forgotten that phantom feeling of wetness on his leg from stepping into the portal that was disguised as a toilet. Whoever designed the system had a deranged sense of humor.

Greg shuffled through security and onto the lift with a handful of other workers who were also running late. He was surprised to note Minister Granger among them. She looked exhausted. “Morning, Minister Granger. Long night?”

She gave him a wan smile. “Morning, Lestrade. Indeed.” She bit her lip, looking pensive.

“Was it the muggle football? I know Ron and Viktor were having a few people over to watch the match. Sorry I couldn’t come.” He’d spent the weekend visiting his mum in France.

Hermione grimaced and shook her head. “No, that was in the afternoon. I got some news last night…I wasn’t able to sleep.”

Greg touched her lightly on the elbow. “M’sorry to hear it. I hope everything will be okay.”

Hermione pursed her lips together. “Part of me hopes so, too. I like to think that people can change. Especially when others have put their trust in them. I know that’s naïve, but…” She shrugged one shoulder. “One never knows, I guess.” 

Greg scowled. “Did someone betray you?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not me, personally. But people I care about will certainly feel that way if it turns out to be true.”

Greg cocked his head, unable to contain his curiosity. “If what turns out to be true?”

Hermione sighed. “You’ll find out soon enough. Harry will be looking for you as soon as you get in.”

 _Merlin_ , Greg thought to himself. Of all the mornings for him to be late. Something was definitely up if it has the Minister of Magic rattled and he was about to be summoned by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

The lift stopped at his level, and with a nod to Hermione he stepped off amidst a flurry of interdepartmental memos whizzing above his head. 


	2. Chapter 2

Greg wended his way through the maze that made up DMLE, glancing over at Harry’s office as he passed. It was empty. Maybe that meant he’d have time to grab a cup of coffee to make up for the one he spilled that morning.

It was a good thing he hadn’t made a detour to the coffee pot before he hit his office. The sight of Harry sitting at his desk with his legs propped up startled him so badly he would have had more coffee spilt on him for sure.

Harry gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Greg. Must not be a good morning if you’re already wound this tight.”

Greg shrugged and then shed his coat. “Just a few little things adding up, s’alright. “

Harry straightened, removing his feet from Greg’s desk and taking out his wand. “Sounds like you could use a cup of tea.” He whispered an incantation, and soon a pot of tea and two cups levitated into the room.

Greg gave him a rueful look. “I was actually hoping for coffee since mine spilled this morning, but this will do.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Coffee’s for waking you up. I think you’ll be plenty awake once you hear what I have to tell you.”

Greg’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. So that’s what the tea is for.”

Harry poured the brew into their cups. “Just so.”

Greg took a sip. Merlin, but Harry made a bracing cuppa. But that was just like him. Harry Potter, on first glance, was a small and unassuming man with an unruly shock of hair and round spectacles. But hang around him for a minute and he packed a punch. “Alright. Consider me fortified.”

Harry looked glum. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you the source of this information. But I have it on very good authority that someone at Hogwarts is involved in dark magic.”

Greg’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell. _Hogwarts_?”

Harry nodded grimly. “It’s been twenty-two years since the last time dark magic has touched those walls. At least…that we know of.”

Greg rubbed his hand down his face and took another sip of tea. “If we know about it, it must be pretty serious.” The school was notorious for keeping to themselves, handling their own affairs, only involving the Ministry if it was dire. “You trust whoever it was that told you?”

Harry nodded again. “Yeah. This person has given me good information before. Saved my arse a few times. I trust their judgment.”

Greg tilted his head. “Judgment? They don’t have proof?”

Harry fidgeted with his cup. “They gave me details about specific incidents, and it definitely sounds like there’s dark magic being performed. The judgment part involves _who_ is doing it. That’s what needs to be proven.”

Harry took a long sip of tea, but it didn’t seem to work because his expression was even more grave after he swallowed. “My source told me it’s the potions master. Draco Malfoy.” His lips curled into a snarl as he said the last name, but it was half-hearted, as if the sentiment behind it was old and faded. 

The name was familiar, even though Greg didn’t know much about the man. His father was the notorious one. Lucius Malfoy, arrogant and virulently racist, was mentioned often during the second war - a curse on the lips of everyone in the Order. Greg wasn’t entirely sure how much of his evil beliefs the bastard handed down to his son, but Draco must have shed at least some of his old ways if the Hogwarts Headmistress hired him. No one pulled the wool over McGonagall’s eyes. At least until now. 

Greg took another sip of tea as he realised this must have been what Hermione meant. If Draco Malfoy was indeed the one performing dark magic at Hogwarts, it would be a deep betrayal of his Headmistress’s trust. “I guess this means I’m going to Hogwarts.” He felt both honored and nervous that he was being given this investigation.

Harry nodded. “Hermione worked it out with McGonagall by owl early this morning. Her letter indicated that she too suspects there’s _something_ going on, but she refuses to believe Malfoy is behind it.” Harry gave him a rueful smile. “You already have your work cut out for you. That’s one person in his corner. Possibly someone else.”

Greg wasn’t thrilled to hear this. Investigations tended to be much harder when witnesses closed ranks. “Who?”

Harry bit his lip. “Well, it’s speculation right now. I’m not entirely sure what their status is.” His lips started to curve into a smile, then fell again. He shrugged. “I’d rather not say. I don’t want to influence you if it’s not even a thing.”

Greg rubbed the back of his neck. “Fair enough. Can you at least tell me your opinion of Malfoy? Did you know him at school?”

Harry huffed out a laugh. “Merlin, did I know him. I loathed Draco my entire time at Hogwarts. He caused me loads of problems and he could be a right bastard. But I got the idea towards the end…a few things made me think that his father wasn’t as great an influence as I’d thought. My friend Luna was of the same opinion, and she’s an excellent judge of character. So I wasn’t entirely horrified when McGonagall hired him. I figured that he had changed after all.” He looked down at his cup of tea. “I don’t want it to be him, Greg. But I can’t dismiss the possibility. There’s too much at stake.”

Harry was silent for a moment, then shook himself. “Anyway, if you can, I’d like you to leave right away.” He slid a file towards Greg. “This has all the details that were shared with me.”

Greg took the file. “Does it include how to get to Hogwarts? I’ve never been.”

Harry slapped his hand against his forehead. “Oh yeah, I always forget you went to Beauxbatons. You don’t have the accent like Fleur.”

Greg smiled at the mention of his old friend. “Yeah, seven years there didn’t manage to knock the London out of me. But I do speak flawless French.”

Harry tapped the desk. “That’s right. It was one of the reasons why you were sent to France by Dumbledore once Voldemort returned. To try and recruit your mum’s people to our side.”

Greg snorted. “M’afraid I wasn’t a very good ambassador, didn’t convince many of them. Besides, you know who was really responsible for Dumbledore’s orders, and _why_. I had to be got out of the way once they started questioning muggleborns at the Ministry. I would have been fine. I’d been an Auror a few years at that point, _and_ I’m half-blood. There’s no way they would have taken my wand and locked me up in Azkaban.”

Harry shrugged. “Be that as it may, it wouldn’t have done you any good if you stuck around. They were already suspicious that some of the Aurors were in the Order. And your mother is a French witch. Blood status wasn’t the only thing they were prejudiced about. They’d have had had their eye on you and you wouldn’t have got much done.”

Greg folded his arms. “Hmph.” It had never sat well with Greg that he couldn’t be in the thick of it during the war. He hadn’t even been able to fight in the last battle. By the time he got word, it was over. Half of his colleagues dead in a matter of hours. 

Harry cleared his throat. “Speaking of _him_ …”

Greg smirked. “You’re not talking about Dumbledore, are you?” Harry pursed his lips. Greg sighed. “He already knows about this, then?” He tapped the file.

Harry nodded. “He’d prefer that we _not_ look into this.”

Greg’s eyes widened. “What? Is he the other one you said might be in Draco’s corner?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I was thinking of someone at Hogwarts. But I suppose you could say he is, too. At least, he said outright that Draco wasn’t the one responsible for the dark magic.”

Greg scowled. “But he thinks there’s dark magic going on? And he doesn’t want us involved?”

Harry scrunched his nose. “He wouldn’t really come out and say it. I got the impression that this might be one of those things that goes…” he made a downward motion with his hand. “…deep.”

Greg pinched his nose. “Merlin, not the Department of Mysteries.”

Harry grimaced. “No. We both know at this point that the DOM is never as involved as he’d like us to think. He won’t admit it, but I know he has fingers in other pies at the Ministry. It’s possible at one point he was an Unspeakable, but I don’t think he is now. If he was, he wouldn’t summon me as often as he does.” 

Harry’s tone was laced with irritation and Greg snorted. “I know that feeling well.” 

Harry gave him a sly smile. “He also wasn’t happy that I put _you_ on the case. I think he’d rather I have assigned someone he could bully into backing off.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Well good for you standing up to him.”

Harry shrugged. “You know how I am with people trying to dictate my actions. I think he regrets recommending me for my current position.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “No, I think he’s pleased with it most of the time. Just not at this particular moment.” He stood up, drinking the last of his tea. “I wonder if I can slip up to Hogwarts before he has the chance to abduct me. Because you know he will.”

Harry laughed. “Sorry Greg. I don’t like your chances.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cripes, sorry for the two week delay. I've been having serious issues with motivation to write given *waves hands* everything going on in the world and my country. But I'm on vacation right now, and have felt some (if not all) of the stress ebbing. Hopefully having accomplished this chapter will buoy me enough to keep writing. <3

After Harry left his office, Greg sat down and skimmed over the file that detailed the dark magic allegations. It was a small series of incidents and discoveries, and Greg noted that each one seemed to gradually escalate the potential danger to students. Escalation usually meant one of two things – either the dark wizard was getting more careless each time they got away with their activities, or the intent was to stir up trouble and they weren’t satisfied with the reaction they were getting. 

The first incident involved a pair of spectacles belonging to Salazar Slytherin that had been gifted to the Malfoys centuries ago, and which had spent the last several years on display in Malfoy’s office. A rumour started amongst the students that putting them on would transform the wearer into Salazar and they would ace all their classes. Naturally, it became a competition to see who could pilfer them. 

The enterprising young Slytherin who succeeded was rewarded for his efforts in the form of being placed under an imperius curse as soon as he put the spectacles on. He behaved strangely all day, and it came to a head when he attacked his best friend in the Slytherin common room. When queried about it, Draco insisted it hadn’t always been cursed because he occasionally wore them as a lark and it never had problems before. 

The next incident was during the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor quidditch game right before the winter holidays. When the Gryffindor seeker grabbed the snitch, it burnt her hand quite severely. It was later discovered to be hexed – and the general consensus was that it would not have burnt the Slytherin seeker’s hand if he had caught it instead. McGonagall received an anonymous letter claiming to have seen Malfoy arguing with Professor Longbottom at the game, and that he stormed off midway through the second half. The two professors corroborated what the letter said. 

Complicating the matter was the fact that the other Gryffindor players claimed that they felt not at all like themselves during the game, as they couldn’t seem to help but sabotage the Slytherin players with numerous fouls. When McGonagall discussed it with the other professors, they speculated it was once again the imperius curse. Malfoy was the only one who insisted they were lying to get out of trouble for their unsportsmanlike behaviour. 

The last incident was in a third year potions class with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The students were instructed to produce a draught that would give them increased writing speed, with Malfoy joking to them that he’d be assigning extra homework that night until it wore off. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits until the students drank a sample and soon began crying and shrieking. It turned out that they were brewing the Drink of Despair instead. Harry made a note in the margin, saying that he had personal experience with that potion and it was very wicked indeed. 

Greg made his own notes on a separate parchment. He always took the approach that nothing was ever as it seemed on the surface, and he was usually suspicious when there was overwhelming evidence that pointed in one direction. Could Malfoy be clever enough to have fooled multiple people considered to be good judges of character, while also being stupid enough to perform dark magic that could easily be tied back to him? Was it perhaps that someone else was the culprit and didn’t mind that Malfoy was the suspect? Someone framing Malfoy? Or were all the incidents perpetuated by different people, perhaps inspired by the previous incidents? In a school full of precocious children flexing their magical abilities for the first time, anything was possible. 

Another one of Greg’s personal rules - he was always careful not to allow any one theory to take hold and skew the facts towards it. For instance, he made a note in the file to look into the rumour about the spectacles. It was very easy for someone to plant a rumour to make trouble. But it was also just as easy for it to happen organically when there were teens with creative imaginations involved. He couldn’t discount either possibility. 

There was also Greg’s bafflement regarding the incidents surrounding the quidditch game. Harry had put in the margins of the report that both he and Draco had been rival seekers for a few years when they were at school. Greg supposed it looked bad for Malfoy, making it seem as if he was angry over the Gryffindors behaving badly and he wanted to get revenge. But if that was the case, how did it connect with the staff’s theory that the team was under the imperius curse? 

It didn’t make sense that Malfoy would force the Gryffindors to sabotage the Slytherin players and then become angry enough at them to punish them. Maybe he’d intended for them to lose the game from too many fouls, and it wasn’t going to plan so he cursed the snitch? Or maybe someone else cursed the team and Malfoy cursed the snitch? Or vice versa? Too many possibilities, which Greg hated. One thing was for sure, he needed to find out what Malfoy and Longbottom were arguing about during the game.

Greg allowed one silver lining in this mess. It would be good to see Nev again. He’d always thought Longbottom was an extraordinary young man, from the time he read about his contributions at the Battle of Hogwarts. Many folks were surprised when he followed in his parents’ footsteps and became an Auror, but Greg wasn’t. He also wasn’t surprised when Nev left only a few years later to pursue a career in herbology. He had the type of personality that he could be brave and put a stop to evil when he had to, but it was secondary to his true nature. He was a gentle, kind, thoughtful, loyal, honourable man, and the Ministry had been lucky to have him for as long as they did. 

Now he was a Hogwarts man, and Greg wondered what he thought of everything that has happened. If Greg recalled correctly, Nev and Harry had been roommates at school, so that meant he was a Gryffindor as well. Had he clashed with Malfoy? More questions to ask when he got to Hogwarts.

Speaking of, Greg needed to leave soon if he was going to have time to go back to his flat and pack, then then apparate to…he glanced at the directions that Harry had scribbled before he left Greg’s office…Hogsmeade village. From there he would be escorted to the castle. Greg stood up and began to pack up the various Auror tools that he took with him on every investigation. He felt antsy, like he had to hurry and get away before he was confronted by the last person he wanted to see right now. 

Greg took a ridiculously circuitous route down to the main level in the hopes that he wouldn’t get yanked into an empty office. It had happened often over the years. There was a time, long, long ago, when he quite enjoyed it - a private moment away from gossiping eyes during the work day. Now their meetings tended to be contentious. Often bitterly so. 

Greg spotted an empty fireplace and made his way towards it. To be fair, the confrontations had all but stopped in the year or so since Greg split with his wife. It felt as if he were taking pity on Greg, and that was almost worse. Greg already felt like a dog that had been kicked, he didn’t want others seeing him that way as well. Least of all… _him_.

As the green flames engulfed him, Greg ignored the tiny kernel of disappointment at the realisation that he hadn’t been waylaid after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Greg barely had time to contemplate the folly of wishing he _had_ been kidnapped by Mycroft Holmes, when he arrived at his flat and found the man himself sitting on his sofa sipping something the colour of caramel from a cut glass tumbler. 

The glass was the only one he had left out of a set that had been a wedding gift from one of his school chums. The others had been broken during shouting matches with his wife, neither of them being arsed to use the reparo charm. If Greg were a betting man, the beverage being swirled around in the glass was the very expensive scotch that had also been a wedding gift…from Mycroft.

“How the bloody hell did you get past my wards?” Greg bit out through clenched teeth. Mycroft merely raised one eyebrow. “Merlin, I don’t have time for this.” He ignored the thundering in his heart at seeing his former lover lounging in his tip of a flat. Not to mention it was his first time laying eyes on Mycroft in almost a year. The last time was shortly after Greg moved out of his marital home and he happened to mention it in one of their impromptu meetings. Mycroft seemed to pull a disappearing act after that. 

Greg snatched the glass out of Mycroft’s hand and thumped it hard onto the side table, not caring that probably a galleon’s worth of scotch was sloshing out of the glass and onto his fingers. “Get out.” Mycroft’s eyes widened at his fury, and Greg looked away from the blue depths. “If you can’t respect my privacy enough to keep the hell out of my home, then why should I give you the respect of an audience?”

Mycroft huffed in derision. “An audience? You wouldn’t have given me one even if I had stopped you at the Ministry.” 

Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “How would you know? You never give me a choice. And now you’ve crossed the line.”

Mycroft winced and held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Please, Gregory. I meant no disrespect. I had to speak with you and it could _not_ take place at the Ministry.” He swallowed.

This caught Greg up short. He narrowed his eyes at Mycroft. Holmes looked paler than usual, and his eyes were filled with worry. Was Greg wrong and this visit wasn’t about the Hogwarts debacle? The events he read about in the file were disturbing for sure, but nothing that would warrant this expression on Mycroft’s face. “What’s wrong? Did something happen that you want me to look into? Is that why you didn’t want me on the Hogwarts case?”

Mycroft lifted his chin and he made a visible effort to smooth over his features. “No, Gregory. I am indeed here about the accusations against Draco Malfoy. They are false, by the way. The Potions Master has done nothing wrong, and Headmistress McGonagall is more than capable of handling these incidents internally. There was no need whatsoever to involve the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Something doubtful teased at the back of Greg’s mind and he tried to draw it out. Usually Mycroft hated it when the Ministry was shut out of things. “You already knew what was going on, didn’t you? Were you looking into it yourself?”

Mycroft eyed the cut glass and Greg made a noise of exasperation and handed it back to him. He went over to the bar cart and took another glass, pouring a generous measure of the scotch for himself. When he sat back down, Mycroft finally answered him. “Yes, I knew. I always make sure I know what’s going on at Hogwarts. The castle is notorious for being a portent of bad times. The Headmistress and I keep in regular touch.”

Greg gave him a sceptical look. “She shares information with you…willingly?”

Mycroft smiled. “Of course. We go way back. She was the one who recommended me for Head Boy.”

Greg took a sip of his scotch and bit back a groan of pleasure. “Really? Wasn’t she the head of Gryffindor house?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Of course, and she was very loyal to the students that were literally under her wing of the castle. But she had others that she doted on as well. For those of us who were… _out_ …she made sure we were well taken care of. Guided us.”

Greg nodded thoughtfully. “ _Oh_. Can’t say that I read that on the back of her chocolate frog card. Is she also out?”

Mycroft sniffed. “She is, but there are many bigots who would prefer to pretend otherwise. She’s a trans woman. We like to joke fondly that she put the trans in transfiguration.”

Greg smiled. He could only imagine how much it would have meant to Mycroft to have her looking out for him at school. Pureblood wizarding families tended to heavily discourage homosexuality as it was difficult enough making matches to avoid inbreeding. It was disgusting how this was still something that mattered, but old traditions were even harder to kill than Voldemort had been.

Greg took another sip of scotch and eyed Mycroft speculatively. “If the Headmistress is capable of handling this herself, why did she agree to me coming for the investigation?”

Mycroft pursed his lips. “Because she can’t say no to Hermione Granger.”

Greg knew that by not using her title, Mycroft was making it clear that it was Hermione herself that McGonagall couldn’t deny. If it had been anyone else that held the position of Minister for Magic, the gates of Hogwarts would have remain firmly closed.

Greg wrinkled his nose. “Somehow I can’t buy that the Headmistress wouldn’t be able to persuade the Minister that she could handle it if she were _in fact sure_ that she could handle it. Perhaps - and this is just a theory - perhaps she doesn’t believe your assurances that it can be contained.”

Mycroft was the one gritting his teeth now. “It _is_ contained.”

Greg stared at him. “You’re barking if you really think that. It’s _not_ bloody well contained if someone is spilling all the details to Harry Potter. I dunno who his informant is, but there were a lot of specifics in that file.”

To Greg’s astonishment, Mycroft actually flinched. It was so slight that he wasn’t even sure he didn’t imagine it. Something had him really rattled. “Gregory, please.”

Greg dragged his teeth across his lower lip, that odd feeling still buzzing around his head. “D’you know who it was that had Potter’s ear? He said it was someone who’s helped him out in the past.”

Mycroft waved his hand as if swatting away a buzzing fly. “That’s not what I’m here to discuss. Look, I know that my involvement makes it seem as if this case is bigger than what you’ve read, but the t-truth is that it is just the opposite. Silly nonsense that will be squashed just as soon as the culprit is found.” 

Mycroft stood up and went to the window, looking out onto the dismal street corner, so he didn’t see Greg’s eyes widen at his stutter. Mycroft was _lying_. “I admit I was annoyed when I found out Potter was pursuing this, but only because I’ve always promised Minerva I would keep the Ministry _out_ of her business.” He started to look back at Greg, but his eyes fell to the ground. “All I could think was that some upstart Auror would sweep in waving their wand and destroy every bit of trust I’d built with her.” 

He raised his chin, still not looking at Greg directly. “Knowing it’s you they assigned doesn’t make me feel much better, I’m afraid. You have more finesse, but your loyalty is to the Ministry. You are also a _stranger_ to Hogwarts.”

Greg strove to keep his face neutral at Mycroft’s acknowledgment that he lacked faith in him. He slowly licked his lip as he carefully considered his next words. Mycroft would have to believe him or else he wouldn’t back off. “Well, it makes sense now that you’ve spelled it out for me. I know it’s important for the Ministry to repair their relationship with Hogwarts after the damage that Fudge and Umbridge did. I get it. But um, you have to understand _my_ position. I can’t just _not_ go now that it’s been arranged.”

Mycroft tensed up, and finally looked Greg in the eyes. Greg held up his hand. “How about this…I’ll visit the Headmistress and listen to what she has to say. I’ll give her some advice, help her to see where she should be looking. And I won’t overstay my welcome. S’alright?” He hoped like hell Mycroft wouldn’t zero in on his vague wording.

Mycroft stared at him for a long moment, then his shoulders lost some of their stiffness. “Of course. You can’t go against Potter’s orders. This…is a good compromise. Thank you, Gregory.” He picked up his glass and swallowed the remains of his scotch, his expression only minutely showing his relief. A shudder ran through Greg at the thought of how big Mycroft’s secret must be if it was this difficult to contain his emotions. 

Mycroft put down the glass and looked around at the flat. Once again he was avoiding Greg’s eyes, and Greg wasn’t sure if it was due to whatever he was hiding or if it was discomfort at seeing where he lived now. “Well, once again I apologise for accosting you in your home.” He said the last word doubtfully.

Greg refrained from pointing out that the bullshit reason Mycroft gave for their meeting could have taken place at the Ministry. Taking it at face value - while Mycroft’s relationship with McGonagall might have started out personal, the way he described it now was entirely political. No need for discussing it away from prying ears. Instead of saying all this, he merely nodded. 

Mycroft stepped into the fireplace and took out a little pouch. Seeing that Greg’s pot was empty, he poured some into it from his pouch. Greg wanted to be irritated at the gesture, but it made him ache instead. “Have a safe trip, Gregory.” Greg wasn’t sure, but his tone seemed to emphasise ‘safe.’

Greg gave him a tight smile. “À bientôt.” It was a slight jab, reminding Mycroft of the fact that he used to enjoy it immensely when Greg spoke French to him. It worked, as Mycroft blinked a few times and then took a pinch of floo powder out of his pouch and whispered something as the green flames surrounded him. Greg wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sound like he said ‘Ministry of Magic.’

Now quite alone, Greg continued to sip his scotch as he contemplated their discussion. Mycroft’s intent had clearly been to downplay the goings on at Hogwarts, and he’d accomplished the opposite. Greg was used to Mycroft misleading him about things, and it hurt every time. But this level of deception had Greg deeply disturbed.

He still didn’t have a firm grasp on what it was about this that had alarm bells going off. Was Mycroft protecting someone? He has in the past been known to use his influence to redirect investigations away from people who he found to be too ‘useful’ to be carted off to Azkaban. Those particular clashes were never fun, and it usually ended up being decided by folks way above Greg’s head. Like Harry. 

That got Greg to wondering how the discussion between Mycroft and Harry had gone. Did Mycroft try to use the same excuse of Ministry-Hogwarts relations with Harry? If it had really been Mycroft’s sole concern, Harry might have understood. After all, he was right in the thick of it when Umbridge was appointed High Inquisitor. 

For this reason, Greg doubted that such had been the topic of their discussion. Mycroft likely tried some other approach with Harry and it hadn’t worked. Whatever it was, neither Harry nor Mycroft had seen fit to tell Greg. He sighed. Keeping secrets from the Auror-in-charge was never a good way to start an investigation.

As he began packing his bag for the trip, trying to figure out how long he would be there, Greg squashed the ridiculous guilt he felt at conning Mycroft into believing he would only stop in for a courtesy visit. After all, Mycroft was the one who was once again trying to keep Greg away from something dangerous. Because it was becoming more and more clear that this was part of Mycroft’s motivation. Whatever darkness has taken hold at Hogwarts, Mycroft didn’t want Greg anywhere near it. 

Which was all the more reason why Greg needed to find out what the hell was happening. He wasn’t going to be kept out of the action this time. Not when there were kids involved, for Merlin’s sake. Who knew how much worse it would be if Hogwarts didn’t have such an experienced staff. Most of them had been through at least two wars and one was an ex-Auror. The fact that whoever did this managed to accomplish this right under the staff’s noses meant they were as talented as they were trouble. And they needed to be stopped. 


	5. Chapter 5

The castle was enormous, an imposing fortress with numerous turrets. Greg’s Scottish blood sang at the beauty of it. Beauxbatons had turrets, but as it was a French chateau, it was much more genteel in appearance. Greg said as much to the Keeper of Keys, Rubeus Hagrid, who had come to meet him at Hogsmeade. The giant stared down at him wide-eyed. “You went to Beauxbatons? That means you know the Headmistress, Madame Maxime.” 

His already ruddy face reddened even more, and Greg gave him a gentle smile. “Indeed. I suppose you would have met her during the Triwizard Tournament.” Hagrid nodded, then pushed open the massive doors that led into the entrance hall. Several passing students squeaked at how swiftly they swung open from the giant’s strength. 

Greg followed Hagrid until they arrived at an alcove taken up by an imposing statue of a gargoyle. Hagrid said, “Bagpipes,” and the statue started to turn, revealing steps. Greg hopped up onto the step, and it continued to rise as Hagrid waved goodbye and trudged back down the hallway. 

As Greg stepped into the Headmistress’s office, he allowed himself one impressed glance around before focusing on the petite woman coming around the desk to greet him. Over the years Greg has seen plenty of pictures of her gazing shrewdly up at him from newspapers and trading cards and biographies, but none compared to having her size him up in person. She gave him a polite smile and extended her hand. “Minerva McGonagall. Pleased to meet you.”

He took her hand in both of his and gave it an earnest squeeze. “Greg Lestrade. The pleasure is mine, Headmistress. It is an honour to finally meet you.”

She smirked at him, as if she knew he was laying on the charm and wasn’t fooled for a bit. “I should say the same, Mr. Lestrade. I’ve heard much about _you_. Come and have some tea.”

Wondering what on earth she could know about him when he usually managed to keep his name out of the Prophet, Greg followed her over to her desk and took a seat across from her. For the second time that day, a teapot poured out a cup for him. This time it was a floral blend, and it put him at ease. “So tell me, Mr. Lestrade, how did you manage to dodge a very determined Mycroft Holmes in order to get here? It must have been a quite a creative lie you told him.”

Greg almost choked on his tea, and he felt a flush creep up his neck that reminded him of his days sitting across from a scolding Madame Maxime. “Er, ma’am, I didn’t tell him a lie…exactly.” He chuckled nervously. “Mycroft framed his concern as wanting to avoid Ministry interference at Hogwarts, which I understand. But I made it clear I didn’t want to hear that from him, I want to hear it from you. I merely promised him that I wouldn’t overstay my welcome.”

The Headmistress gave him an approving smile. “Then obviously he is hoping that I will show you the door myself.”

Greg shifted in his seat uneasily. “Will you?”

McGonagall folded her hands and rested them carefully on top of her desk. “Mr. Lestrade, are you aware that before I started work at Hogwarts, I held a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

Greg’s eyes widened. Suddenly he felt like an idiot for his words to Mycroft about giving her advice on the investigation, as if she would have no idea what she was doing. “N-no, ma’am. What position?”

“I worked in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. As a half-blood, I grew up in a muggle household, and back then the Ministry thought it a good idea to have people in that division that actually knew something about what they were investigating.”

Greg bit his lip to hold back a smile, knowing it was a gentle jab at Arthur Weasley, who worked in that division for many years. His enthusiasm only somewhat made up for his lack of understanding about how most muggle inventions worked.

The Headmistress went on. “When I began teaching at Hogwarts, it wasn’t long before I was seeing the other side of things. I still remember the first time Aurors came to the school and threw their authority in our faces. Yes, Mr. Lestrade, the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts long before Dolores Umbridge came along. I have much appreciated Mycroft’s efforts on behalf of the school since the war, and of course more recently Potter and Granger.”

McGonagall stood up and came around the desk, leaning against it. “Mr. Lestrade, I’m not going to ask you to leave. I don’t know who is doing these wicked things, or why, but I believe it’s only going to get worse. Mycroft is…more concerned than he lets on. As much as he wants you to stay out of it, I’m actually quite relieved you came.”

Greg looked down at his cooling tea. “Headmistress…you said you’ve heard a lot about me. I’m guessing it was Mycroft?”

McGonagall tilted her head and gave him a smile with surprising warmth. “Please, call me Minerva. And yes, I’ve been hearing the name Lestrade ever since Mycroft joined the Ministry.”

Greg felt a lance of pain shoot through his heart. “You can call me Greg. Or Gregory, as I’m guessing he called me when he told you stories about my…Auror skills.” His smile was strained.

“It was more than that, as I’m sure you know,” she said gently. “You were his first real relationship, my dear. He had many questions for me, as I was his mentor.”

Greg felt his fingers tightening on his teacup, and he set it on the desk to avoid breaking it. “Oh really? Did he ever ask about the wisdom of interfering with my duties?”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid he acted on his own judgment at that time. I wish he _had_ come to me instead of Professor Dumbledore. Albus was a good man, but he and Mycroft were like-minded in their habit of taking charge of other people’s safety without their knowledge or consent.”

Greg swallowed. “Do you think that’s what he’s doing now? Trying to keep me away from something dangerous?”

Minerva sighed. “I think he would have tried to keep the Ministry out of it, whoever it was they sent. But the fact that they sent you distresses him greatly. Not just because of the danger. I think…whatever this is for Mycroft…it’s personal.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “Personal in what way? Does he have some sort of connection to Malfoy?” Part of him wanted to ask if they were involved, but couldn’t bring himself to voice it aloud.

Minerva shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. They’re both Slytherins. Mycroft was Head Boy the year Draco came on board. I asked him his opinion of Malfoy when I was considering whether to hire him. Mycroft didn’t have much to contribute that I didn’t already know. He said he had to keep his eye on Draco a lot that year, as he was ‘engaged in behavior typical of boys who desperately wanted to impress their emotionally unavailable fathers.’” Greg snorted, as he could almost hear Mycroft saying those words. Minerva went on, “But he also acknowledged that Malfoy kept himself out of trouble after he graduated. The Dark Lord really did a number on that boy, burned every bit of arrogance out of him. He’s still very headstrong, but he puts it to good use.”

Greg bit his lip. “I do want to discuss Malfoy with you, but I’d like to go back to what you said about this being personal for Mycroft.”

Minerva went back around her desk and sat down heavily. “I think he knows who is behind all this. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so sure, as I am, that Draco is not responsible. The fact that he hasn’t said who it is… Hasn’t had this person arrested and put in Azkaban… It says to me that they have thus far eluded his grasp.”

Greg nodded slowly. “And he’s afraid that sharing the identity of the dark witch or wizard will make them disappear entirely.”

Minerva fidgeted with her teacup. “Or make them even more bold, which is a terrifying prospect. Which is why I think, Gregory, it would be best if you gave every appearance of investigating from the angle of Draco being the guilty party. It is clear to me, as I hope it is to you, that whoever is behind this is quite obviously framing him.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “I’ll certainly investigate that angle, in addition to every other angle until I get at the truth. It’s not obvious to _me_ that he’s being framed. Malfoy could be the perpetrator and he’s relying on everyone looking elsewhere for answers because you all trust him.”

Minerva pursed her lips as her expression turned icy. “I should have known you would say that. You really are quite the Auror. I will accept your point of view only because it suits my purpose.”

Greg chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll do as you suggest and make it look like I’m biased, I have no problem with that. There are enough folks out there who think Aurors do sloppy work that it won’t be hard to play to type.”

Minerva’s smile returned. “Let’s hope this person doesn’t know your reputation as well as I do.”

Greg’s forehead wrinkled. “You make it sound as if he talked about me even after we broke up. It’s been twenty years, I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Minerva’s eyes softened. “My dear boy, you underestimate Mycroft greatly if you think he stopped caring about you after you left him.” 

Greg looked away and took a shuddering breath. _Twenty years_ , and it still hurt more than anything, even the divorce.

A rumbling sound made Greg stiffen and reach for his wand, but Minerva simply lifted her eyes towards the doorway. Ah. The gargoyle. Apparently, someone was coming. Was it Malfoy? Had Minerva summoned him for an interview? He hoped not, preferring to do things in his own time.

The figure that seemed to rise up from the floor on stone steps was revealed to be Greg’s old colleague, Neville Longbottom. Greg grinned broadly, as he hadn’t met up with Nev in ages. Seeing that he was now sporting a beard, Greg made a mental note to wind him up about it. 

Rather than returning his grin, Neville stormed into the room and stood before him, scowling and crossing his arms. “Greg, if you’re here to arrest Draco, you can forget it! He’s innocent, and I will do everything in my power to prove it.”

Greg gave him an incredulous look and then burst into laughter. “Are you taking the piss? Mate, you know that’s not how I work.”

Nev’s scowl deepened. “I mean it, Greg. I will duel you before I let you take him to Azkaban.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. Bloody hell, so this is what Harry meant about Malfoy having a defender. It was understandable that the Headmistress would be reluctant to point the finger at one of her own professors, but what was Neville’s stake in this?


End file.
